Sometimes Strife
by SilentG
Summary: When Alex gets heatstroke on a family outing, what does Liz do? She dumps her sister at home and calls someone to clean up the mess. Who does she call? Guess. B/A hurt-comfort with a happy ending.
1. Chapter 1

**Author:** SilentG  
><strong>Title:<strong> Sometimes Strife  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> LO:CI  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> B/A  
><strong>Rating:<strong> K+ for now  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Probably not  
><strong>Archive:<strong> Anywhere – no need to ask – just attribute, and let me know if possible  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not mine. Also not a medical professional. Apologies for any inaccuracies.  
><strong>Summary:<strong>When Alex gets heatstroke on a family outing, what does Liz do? She dumps her sister at home and calls someone to clean up the mess. Who does she call? Guess. B/A hurt-comfort with a happy ending.

**A/N 1:** I don't usually write hurt-comfort, although I enjoy reading them. Heatstroke is Eames's karmic punishment for being too accommodating of her family.

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Goren. My sister was looking a little out of it when we dropped her off just now."

Eames hadn't said anything about it, but he'd gotten the feeling that she'd been a bit anxious about spending the day with her family at the beach. Things between Eames and her sister and brother-in-law had been tense the past couple of years, and although the occasional grimace and twitch of her head was the extent of her expressions of frustration at work, he could see the degree of her hurt, frustration and shame. At one point, he thought maybe she'd been hinting at him joining her, and he almost offered, but in the end he couldn't find the words.

"What?"

"Just now. We dropped her off at her apartment. She looked a little piqued."

_Piqued_. He'd been snoozing in a lawn chair on his tiny patio when his cell phone had woken him up. Liz, Eames's sister, didn't ask if he was busy, didn't _ask_ him if he was able to check on his partner, and didn't, repeat, _didn't_, tell the truth about Eames. That was what had him rushing to lock the sliding door and wiggle his toes into his flip-flops… If she was calling Bobby to passive-aggressively bully him into driving all the way out to Forest Hills to check on his partner, something must really be wrong.

Bobby was already breathless with worry and exertion. "Um, OK, did you…" _click_. Hanging up on him hadn't been an accident… she wouldn't be calling back.

She was a _nurse_, for Chrissake. If Eames needed to be monitored… and the myriad conditions that could have resulted in that imperative rattled around in his head like buckshot… why didn't Liz just stay with her sister?

Because it didn't fit with her life plan, Bobby thought as he rummaged for his keys with shaking hands. Eames was there for her sister's health, happiness and convenience, not the other way 'round. It was probably Gary who talked her into calling at all. Bobby could picture the three of them driving away, him nattering at his wife to call her sister's partner so she wouldn't be all alone…

He phoned Alex from his car. The first three times it rang and rang, then went through to voicemail, then finally, the fourth time, she answered.

"Hello?" The breathy, husky voice was similar to what he'd heard in his fantasies many times, and despite his worry, Bobby felt a twinge of arousal. Her quick, shallow breaths added to the similarities, but he reined in the distracting feelings by reminding himself that the origin was cause for concern and not excitement.

"Hey, Eames, what's up?" He disliked deceiving her, but he was afraid that if he told her straight away that Liz had called him, she'd hang up without giving him any idea of what was wrong. "Did I wake you? I thought you'd still be at the beach."

"Nah, just… hanging out on the couch. Got back a few minutes ago."

"Oh, cuz you sound… tired. Are you OK?" He tried to keep the pitch and volume of his voice down, but he was so worried, it was hard.

"It's nothing Bobby, I just got a bit too much sun." He held the phone to his ear frowning while he listened to what sounded like his partner vomiting.

"You're throwing up? Is this the first time?"

"No," came her soft voice.

"That's serious, Eames. You need to get into the tub, in cold water, right away."

"Oh Christ, I'm not doing that Bobby."

"You…" How could he persuade this stubborn woman? She hated to be told what to do, particularly by him, she hated seeming weak, especially in front of him, and she hated being fussed over. Especially by him? He didn't know, because he'd never tried before.

Bobby managed to keep her on the phone for the rest of the drive, but he failed to persuade her to do anything more than she was already doing, which was apparently lying on the couch with a wet facecloth on her forehead and a waste basket on the floor next to her. He winkled a few tidbits of information out of her: that she'd had a bit to drink – booze, that is – but nothing much else, that she'd been unable to keep anything down, and that she'd spent most of the afternoon in the water with her nieces and nephews, without a hat.

"Where were Liz and Gary?" He could picture her in the surf, in a little bikini – quickly moving on from that thought – getting dehydrated and sunstroked and overheating in a trice in the car when everyone else had the windows closed to warm up.

"In Dad's station wagon. They were fighting."

"And what about your brother and his wife?"

"They couldn't come at the last minute, Dad just picked up the kids."

"And what about your dad?"

"He was on the phone with Liz and Gary."

"From the car?"

"They needed a mediator." She laughed a little, and Bobby found himself smiling as he slammed the car door. "Where are you? Were you driving?"

"Just a sec, Eames," he mumbled as he locked up.

"Because you know that's unsafe, especially for you. You should have called back later."

"That's funny," he said, letting himself in to her building.

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2: **This fic is about 6k in length, and will be six chapters. I may try to get the whole thing up before Sunday night, just so as not to jinx the finale.

_**Please review!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N 1:** Thanks to letsallchant, havers and lynnez59 for their help with the title of this fic. The reason for the title I chose will be clear in chapter 4.

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Alex, you're burning up. You're not even sweating." Seeing her tiny figure huddling on the sofa, her first name had rolled naturally off Bobby's tongue. He'd forgone pleasantries and knelt right by her on the sofa, pushing the barfy garbage pail away with one hand and shoving the hair out of her eyes with the other.

"I don't sweat."

She'd looked unsurprised to see him when he arrived, but she was in much worse shape than he'd even imagined. Besides the angry blotches that showed exactly where her sunscreen had failed, her eyes were dry and unfocussed, her head lolled around as if she were unable to hold it upright, her skin was flaccid and spongy, and she was absolutely radiating heat.

"Everybody sweats."

She covered her eyes with one forearm when he turned the light on. "I'm fine, Bobby," she murmured.

"Alex, we gotta get you cooled off," he said, sliding his arms beneath her knees and shoulders and lifting her easily. "Have you been able to keep anything down," he inquired, noticing the Dramamine and gingerale on the coffee table.

"No," she replied, holding herself stiffly in his arms but not resisting. "You're not gonna get in the shower with me like they do on TV, are you?"

"Only if you won't get in," he said, relieved that she wasn't kicking up too much of a fuss. "Does your head hurt?"

She grunted and twitched her head. "Everything hurts. I don't feel so good."

He couldn't believe how hot she was… and how light. It was like carrying a load of laundry just out of the dryer. She smelled fresh too, salty and sweet with a hint of musk.

He set her down right in the tub and knelt on the mat, plugging the drain and starting the water. "Ow, cold, cold cold," she moaned, but stayed sitting where he'd put her, her head bowed over her bent knees. "Bobby, I have my swimsuit on under this," she protested as he took the shower head out of its bracket and started spraying across her neck and down her back.

"I know, but you'll cool off faster with your clothes on… they'll hold the cold."

Despite his worry, he felt peaceful, even sensual, tending to his partner this way. She was meek and docile – which wasn't the reason he was enjoying it – but her lack of protest lent a rhythm to his ministrations that lulled and quieted him. He watched detachedly as the level of the water reached her groin – a critical point for cooling – and watched with a bit less detachment as she leaned back against his bracing arm while he sprayed down her front, and up and across her bared throat.

He chanced to massage her scalp a bit as he soaked her hair long and well, and was amazed at how much heat still radiated from her, yet how quickly his own fingers grew stiff and achy from the cold.

"I'm thirsty," she finally said, breaking a long and comfortable silence. He'd been daydreaming on two levels… on one thinking about how the rivulets of water looked as they ran down her skin, and on the other plotting how to persuade her to let him take her to Emergency.

"You think you could hold down some water?" He was relieved at her declaration, because he'd been monitoring her pulse a bit and was worried that she was seriously dehydrated.

"I dunno, but I'd like to try."

He held the spray up to her face and she opened her mouth, letting it fill. She took small swallows, holding still while he focused the stream on her head in between. When she'd had a few mouthfuls, he turned the water back onto her body, and swirled his hand in the tub to more evenly distribute the heat that had been leeched from her body into the water.

A few minutes later she started swallowing and shaking her head.

"Are you gonna throw up again?"

"Yes," she mumbled.

"OK," he said, grabbing the trash can. "Just lift your head up a little, I'll hold your hair."

"Quit treating me like a baby," she groused.

He had to wait a few seconds for the retching to stop before answering. "I don't think you're a baby, Alex. I think your sister is a baby." She cupped some water in her hands and swished it in her mouth, then spit, but didn't try to swallow anything else.

Finally she protested that she couldn't stay there any longer. Her hands and feet were freezing, and she was feeling sick again. Letting the water out of the tub, Bobby helped her stand and wrapped her, wet clothes and all, in a couple of huge bath sheets that he found – with her directing him – in her linen cupboard. Without a brilliant plan in place, he loathed to break their idyll by broaching the subject on his mind.

"Can you help me go lie down? I think I can walk."

"You're still hot, Eames, and your pulse is thready. We gotta get you to the hospital." Seeing her continued weakness, disorientation, and nausea, he flipped back into work mode, barking the comment as if they'd been at a crime scene. Except he was rarely this stressed out at a crime scene.

"No, I'm not going to the hospital. I'll be fine, I'll cool off."

"It's not just the heat, Eames, it's the electrolytes, your heart can –"

"My heart is fine, Bobby, and none of your concern. I'm not going to the hospital," she snapped.

"_Alex…_" How could she be so cavalier with her health? Her heart? Running through worst-case scenarios of Alex having a seizure, Alex fainting, Alex in cardiac arrest, Alex dying in his arms as he cracked her sternum with chest compressions, he felt a helpless, irrational rage bubbling up… as if somehow her refusal to get treatment equated to a lack of trust in his ability to be the caretaker of her heart.

"Bobby, I don't want to." Temporarily pushing down the fury and distress that were threatening to overwhelm his sense of reason, Bobby looked carefully at his partner's pinched face. She wasn't just being stubborn, he realised… in her panicked, pleading eyes he saw the shadows of Nate, of Gage, of Joe… had all her hospital experiences been fraught with anguish or agony? He suddenly heard what she was really saying… _please don't make me._

He wouldn't. Mind racing, he came up with an alternate plan – a decidedly inferior, but necessary plan – and nodded. "OK then. OK. So, um, I gotta make a call."

~.~.~.~.~

_**Please review!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N 1:** Sorry about the chapter mix-up yesterday. I fixed it.

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER THREE**

Funnily enough, the freezing cold water pounding on her pounding head actually made it _easier_ to think.

Alex really really hoped that Bobby didn't know just how horrible she felt. So horrible, in fact, that she couldn't even muster any angst or even irritation at her repeatedly barfing in front of him. When had she ever been laid so low? Time was, when she literally would have died rather than let him see her weak like this, needy. Needing _him_. Now she was just – so, so glad he was here with her, his beautiful hands fiddling aimlessly with her soggy locks, his eyes carefully averted (most of the time, she noticed with satisfaction), his voice soft and low and slow.

What a relief it was when he arrived. She didn't want to be alone, even though her skin was on fire, her head was pounding, and the cramps in her stomach were keeping her bent almost double. She hadn't been thinking that she could possibly be in danger, though… she hadn't really been thinking much at all. She just hoped that the cool water would make her feel better, and that her stomach would cooperate. And she hoped that she didn't look too bedraggled.

"Spray my neck more, please," she mumbled, resting her forehead on her knees and bracing for the feeling – not of the icy stream – but rather of his fingertips playing over her burning shoulders as he held up her hair. Finally he noticed the clip she kept on the side of the tub, and gathered the dripping mess into a loose twist that he fastened to the back of her head, just where she liked it.

Oh, why hadn't she just asked him to come with her to the beach today? She had a funny feeling he would have said yes.

Would things have been different if he had come? Yes. She was certain they would have.

She wasn't sorry that she'd spent most of the day with her nieces and nephews, but it wasn't much of a break. Dad just assumed it was her preference, since she didn't have children of her own, and the rest of her family… _just assumed_.

"Can you lean back? You need more, on your…"

She shook her head _no_, and he obligingly braced her with a hand in the middle of her back and her head against his bicep. She looked straight at him as he played the shower spray over her burnt chest, her breasts, her waist, and under her arms… she was too out of it to feel weird about it. She saw his eyes follow the water as he anointed her with it, then shift restlessly around the bath stall before coming to rest on her face.

"Sorry," he said a little hoarsely. She shook her head _don't worry about it_ and he sighed. "If I move you back a bit maybe you could stretch your legs out, then they'd be underwater. You should actually lie down," he added. "The water's deep enough now."

So she did, and that was the end of their interaction.

The whole dynamic would have been different with Bobby there, she mused. He was like a magnet to the kids; they would have followed him wherever he went. And Dad would have wanted to talk shop with them. He liked her partner, and liked spending time with the two of them, but Liz got irritated when Dad spent time just with his oldest daughter, so he usually left her alone on family outings whether she wanted him to or not. Bobby would have been a natural hub for all of them.

She was surprised when Bobby gave in about the hospital thing. She'd noticed him taking her pulse… she wasn't 100% sure what _thready_ was, but she knew in her heart of hearts that she was really in a bad way, and if Bobby thought she needed to see a doctor she probably should. But oh, couldn't it wait 'til morning? She could see her own doctor then, and…

He'd left her, swaddled in a ridiculous number of towels, perched on the can. She untangled herself and weakly tried to dry her hair a bit, watching him dig his cell out of his back pocket and flip it open.

"Who are you calling?" She hoped he hadn't changed his mind about the hospital. Or worse, she hoped he wasn't calling her sister. She'd have enjoyed seeing the two of them square off, but not today.

"Shhhh, I'm trying to remember the… Um hello, uh – sorry, wrong number."

"Hey, it's, me, uh, Robert Goren? Yeah, I know, ah, sorry about that." Bobby stepped a few paces down the hallway and spoke in hushed tones. _Girlfriend_. Alex fought back the queasy feeling that had suddenly returned, finally giving in and retching into the sink. _But if she was his girlfriend,_ she thought as she heard Bobby hurrying back to the bathroom, _why had he forgotten her phone number?_

~.~.~.~.~

_**Please review!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N 1:** It's weird. I'm on a roller coaster regarding the ending. Even though I had a bad feeling about some stuff in the preview of the finale from last Sunday, I was fine on Monday and Tuesday. Then on Wednesday, I was so agitated and despondent that I almost couldn't work, lol. Managed to talk myself down on Thursday, and for some weird reason (or maybe for no good reason) I feel very optimistic today. But no matter how I feel, know what makes me feel better? Writing! And what would make me feel even better? Reading your reviews!

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The first thing Janice noticed when Bobby let her in the apartment was the wisps of fluffy strawberry blonde hair that stirred with the fan that was panning back and forth across the cosy living room.

It was all she could see of whatever was on the sofa, it was so tiny.

Dr. Janice Cunningham had been perched on a stool at her kitchen island with her brother's latest bestseller and a glass of wine when her phone rang. _Robert Goren_. Whose only problem was insecurity, she'd thought, and who she'd spent several weeks last year trying to convince that they were perfect for each other. In her mind, he was perfect for her: smart, witty, strong, sensitive (or so it seemed), noble…

He'd been hesitant, apologetic, over the phone. He'd said it was a dire emergency, so she'd hurried.

Sometimes strife was what brought people together, so…

"She's over here."

The wispy blonde entity stirred, and Robert rushed over to it. Not another word, not a thank-you, not even a hello. As previously stated, she'd once thought he was sensitive.

"What's going on, Bobby?" _Bobby_. His friends called him Bobby. The voice was soft and husky, and Janice noticed Robert reacting to it physically. The brief droop of his eyelids and flare of his nostrils was something she'd seen, a couple of times. Tried to inspire, a couple of times.

He'd said she was his _partner._

Reluctantly, she circled the sofa and faced the patient, who was curled up and half-reclined in damp clothes and a huge towel.

A tired, haughty, suspicious face. Pretty, but hard. The face of a career cop. The bundle on the sofa, which didn't seem so wispy and fragile now, regarded her with resignation.

"Well?" Robert was perched, just barely, on the other end of the sofa, right on the edge. She caught him staring at the little drownling with an intensity that she'd always known was in him, but had never seen for herself. His eyes were like two lumps of coal almost melting the very air around them. The bundle turned her head minutely and tsked at him.

"I'm Alex Eames," that soft husky voice said, nodding with difficulty, "Sorry you had to…" Her speech was interrupted by coughing, which turned into retching. Robert held her hair while she dry-heaved into a trash can.

Janice got to work. "You should just take her to the hospital," she said, prepping one syringe of potassium and mineral salts, and another of Dramamine. "Your – she –" Janice finally had to address the patient directly, "You really need an IV."

"Good luck finding a vein," the pale bundle replied with some heat. "I've been in the hospital nine times and only once did they manage to get a needle in the right place."

_Nine times_. Maybe she had a good reason not to want to go. Janice decided not to badger the wraith any further. "Well then, the Dramamine will help you keep fluids down. You need to get some in you ASAP, and I'll write you a scrip for salt pills and anti-nausea drops." She pulled out her BP cuff and stethoscope. "Can you get her something now?" She asked, directing the question to Robert. "Half water, a quarter apple juice and a quarter gingerale."

He returned with a big plastic tumbler full of something and a straw, which the patient pulled out with a scoff. While he was fixing the drink, Janice had asked the bundle about neurological symptoms and checked eyes and reflexes. Janice concluded that it was bad, but not dire. "She needs two quarts of electrolyte-balanced fluids over the next two hours, then a pint an hour for the subsequent four and only stop if she's peeing normally. Start the mineral salts straight away, and don't miss any. Keep up with the Dramamine drops until tomorrow morning. And if she doesn't urinate within an hour from now, or if she seizes or faints, you _must_ take her to Emergency."

The waif, whose wet clothes seemed to be drying off, crossed her sunburnt arms and shifted uncomfortably, revealing a couple of ice packs that had been tucked into her sides. She had submitted to the examination without a sound of encouragement or protest, and for the most part her eyes had rested on Robert. She'd blanched at the mention of urine, Janice noted with satisfaction. "Once her stomach has settled, she can have a couple of Tylenol or ibuprophen for the sunburn. Crush them up between two spoons."

She handed Robert the two scrips and started packing her bag. "Uh, Janice," he mumbled, examining the papers as if he didn't know what they were, "Could you just stay here a few minutes while I fill these?"

"What?" Both women cried with one outraged voice.

But he was already halfway out the door. "Thanks," he said over his shoulder.

They exchanged all of eight words while Robert was gone.

"You don't have to stay," came the soft voice from behind a curtain of hair.

"No, I'll stay," Janice replied.

When Robert returned, Janice saw something that filled her with dismay. She had spent the 20 minutes judging the Detective, drooping and worn but aloof on the sofa. _Not worthy, _she decided. Not kind, or witty, or tender.

But for a moment after he opened the door, that pinched face broke open, and she was _beautiful_. The smile she gave him lit her up like a field of daffodils, and suddenly she was warm and pliant and _scintillating_. Robert pulled up for a second and gaped at her, before shaking his head and looking away.

A moment later the stoic was back, and Janice would have thought she'd dreamt it.

To save herself the embarrassment of being kicked out by Robert, she met him at the door. "May I speak to you outside for a moment?"

He nodded and held the door for her as they both stepped out into the hall.

"Um, thank you, Janice. For, uh, giving up part of your Saturday night to help us out. I want you to know that I, uh, I appreciate it."

She didn't acknowledge his gratitude; how could she? This evening had turned out so differently from how she'd imagined. "Well earlier tonight, I was going to ask you somewhere more private, if you might like to take me out for drinks to thank me for dropping everything and rushing out here after no word from you in 8 months, but… I can see that there's no point. So, here's what I'm going to say instead. Don't call me again. For any reason. If your _girlfriend_ has another bad day at the beach, take her to the hospital."

Janice stood for a beat, searching his face for evidence of remorse. But at the mention of the soggy mess in the living room, he looked over his shoulder and half-turned back towards the apartment. _Hopeless_.

"She's not my girlfriend, she's my partner," he mumbled, not really even paying attention any more.

"Sure she is."

~.~.~.~.~

_**Please review!**_


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Despite her discomfort, Alex had almost fallen asleep during the interlude alone with the doctor. That whole episode had been so painful and embarrassing… Alex felt for the woman, who clearly hadn't learnt when to say _no_ to the sometimes-big-baby that was Robert Goren. Alex would have sent the poor doctor away, but she was so grateful to be treated at home.

On the other hand, Dr. Cunningham had been extremely disdainful. To her recollection, she'd only addressed Alex directly one single time.

The Dramamine was doing a number on her, but now that she wasn't so nauseous she was starting to feel really thirsty, so while Bobby was in the hallway saying goodbye, she finished the last of the big drink he'd made for her earlier.

She dozed while Bobby puttered around. Watching him through heavy-lidded eyes, emotions floated near the surface with her shifting consciousness… emotions that under normal circumstances she ruthlessly suppressed.

She wondered at the man in front of her. He was immature and selfish, sometimes. Irritatingly perceptive, and irritatingly oblivious. He was beautiful and brilliant and she loved him so.

And he loved her. Yes, he did. In her heart she knew it was true.

And he would never say anything or do anything about it. Because he'd rather die than disrespect her.

Bobby lined up her sandals and his flip-flops next to each other just inside the door. She didn't see him do it but she saw them in his hands. He went into the kitchen and mixed a big pitcher of the concoction the Doctor had suggested. He lined up all the pills she'd need and counted out doses. He drew out a little something on a piece of paper; when she managed to mumble an inquiry, he said it was a chart of medication and liquid consumption. Nothing about liquid coming out, she thought gratefully but was too tired to say.

She rubbed her chest a little, and Bobby bounced over in an instant. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just have… an ache."

She didn't grasp the gravity of her statement until he almost fell to the floor beside her. "Oh my God, Alex. Are you…"

He was so beautiful and lovable moving purposefully around her apartment. Careful with her things, at ease. She realised that she wanted him to stay. Not just tonight… she wanted him to _stay_. "No no, it's… no, it's not my heart." _But it was. It was exactly and completely her heart._ "I'll… talk to you more about it later." She was afraid that if she said anything else she might cry.

As she drifted in and out, she heard her cell phone ring, then the land line.

_~ Hello, Mr. Eames. ~ _

_~ No, I've been here a while. ~ Yeah, she's OK. ~ _

_~ Liz called me. ~_

_~ Yeah, the thought had crossed my mind. ~_

_~ Um, she got a bit too much sun. ~_

_~ I'm not, but she's… ~_

_~ No, you're right. She had heatstroke. I put her in a tub of cold water and called a friend who's a doctor. She's got some electrolyte pills in her and she's getting re-hydrated. She'll be OK. I'll tell her you called. ~_

_~ Well, it was no problem. ~_

_~ Uh, you're right, I would. ~_

Half-awake, she got the gist of Bobby's conversation with her father. She was struck again with what her partner had done for her. She only wondered at his last words… what _would_ he do?

In the end, Bobby had to carry her to bed. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah, thanks. You said all the right things." Now that she was more herself, she could appreciate a little better the novelty of being carried by Bobby. Which was… surprisingly OK; she usually hated being carried. "Why do I feel so weak?"

"Because your body's been robbed of potassium."

"Sorry I asked."

~.~.~.~.~

_**Please review!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N 1:** Small chapter spoilers for: Season 3, Blind Spot & Amends. And TeddyMo, you got your wish!

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER SIX**

The next few hours drifted by in a blur. Alex would snooze for a bit in her bed with the light on, then Bobby would wake her up to give her something to drink or a pill to take. The stomach cramps were finally gone, and only an echo of her terrible headache remained. It was so good to be cool again! After a few hours, once he got her to report that she was peeing OK, he pronounced that she was good to sleep for the rest of the night.

She stretched a little and noticed her partner had something in his hand. Squinting, she saw that it was a frond of aloe, split lengthwise, its pale green flesh glistening. She wondered where he'd got it from… she had a neighbour with an aloe plant on her patio. He wouldn't have…?

Without asking, he sat down next to her on the bed, reached for her arms and began rubbing the succulent across her sunburnt skin. She shivered – or was it trembled? – when he swept across her chest, watching the progress of his own hand intently. "How are you feeling?"

"I think I'm OK," she whispered.

He looked at her with – was it the first smile she'd seen from him all night? It melted her heart, at any rate. "Well, I think I'll just hang around here until you're sure. And by you, I mean me."

She wanted to tell him how glad she was, but the words wouldn't come.

After tending to her skin, he fluffed her pillows and straightened the coverlet over her. He adjusted the blinds, filled her glass, and gently tugged her hair away from her sweaty neck, fanning it out on the pillow. It felt so nice to be taken care of, by Bobby… she bit her lip to keep from saying something embarrassing.

"Alex," he said softly. She liked the sound of her name on his lips. "You know something funny?" She just grunted, almost asleep. "I spent the whole day today kicking myself for not going with you and your family."

"That's OK, Bobby… you're here now. I think I like having you to myself anyway."

**O.O.O.O.O**

Feeling restless, Bobby kept puttering around Alex's apartment; adjusting the belongings she'd been too out of it to put away when she'd returned from the beach, checking her meds and the log he'd been keeping, tidying the bathroom and the kitchen, emptying the trash, and peeking through the crack in her bedroom door.

Bobby realised that he'd been having trouble adjusting to the fragility he'd seen in her today.

He'd never thought of her as fragile. Even when she'd been hurt, damaged, in the hospital bed after she rescued herself from Jo; even when she'd lain wounded in a different way after giving up her nephew to her sister; even when he'd poked and prodded her husband's murder.

So what was different? It wasn't her physical weakness. And it wasn't the danger she'd been in, although that had weighed heavily on him in the long minutes while he waited for Janice to arrive and reassure him that there was something they could do and she'd be OK.

Pulling a sheet and blanket out of the linen cupboard, he realised that it was because she'd been alone. He'd never thought of her as having to go through something alone. Maybe he'd been wrong about that…

He made himself as comfortable as he could on her sofa, turning his face to inhale Eames's scent that still clung to the pillow she'd given him. He was still feeling agitated, but he settled himself by reflecting on the more positive elements of the evening. First and foremost, his partner was safe and sound, out of danger and sleeping quietly in her bed. He knew that because he'd checked on her about half a dozen times since the last time he'd woken her. Each time she'd been peaceful and unmoving, her little breaths barely stirring her body with movement. And each time he'd felt a yearning, an actual physical desire, to go to her and show her with his voice and his body how he felt about her. But he didn't do that. They didn't do that.

Thinking of Eames in bed drew his thoughts to the many times he'd touched her tonight. Smoothing aloe over her skin as she reclined smiling up at him was a moment he'd remember for the rest of his life. Carrying her from place to place, feeling her stiff body relax and mould itself to him, her arms awkwardly winding around his neck and shoulders. Even holding her hair back when she unswallowed.

He felt good about being here, and not just because Eames needed him. He liked her company, and he liked the fact that she seemed to have accepted him being in her home, taking up space. He hoped that maybe she'd continue to welcome him after she got better.

**O.O.O.O.O**

Alex awoke with a start, disoriented, thinking it was morning. Surprised when the digital clock – the most animated thing to accompany her to bed in a _long_ while – said that only2 hours had passed since she'd fallen asleep. This whole ordeal had started around dinnertime… although it seemed like an aeon ago… but even with all the fuss and wakeups et cetera, it was now only 2am.

In the blurry weird fog that Dramamine always seemed to leave her in, she crawled out of bed feeling like she had to be _somewhere,_ only coming to herself when she came upon the person of Bobby, snoozing on the sofa in her living room where she'd lain in misery earlier. He had both hands folded under his cheek like a child, but he looked every inch the strong, mature man that he was. Mature… and yet in sleep, relaxed and youthful.

Who was this person, who would drop everything and rush to her with no more than a cryptic call from someone he barely knew? Who would burn a bridge with a beautiful, accomplished woman so Alex could be coddled in her childish fear of medical institutions?

He was her _partner_. But tonight, she wanted to drop down by his side, pepper his face with kisses, run her fingers through his curls, take his hand and lead him to her bed, where he belonged.

But, she wasn't going to do that. They didn't do things like that. After leaning over him ever so slightly and offering a prayer of gratitude in her mind to who- or whatever made him and brought him to her, she went back to bed and fell asleep.

The next time she awoke – not at dawn, but shortly after while the sun was still at a steep angle through the window – he was gone. The sheet and blanket he'd used were folded neatly at one end of the sofa, and the pillow had been returned to her bed while she slept on. Alex tensed against the disappointment that crawled up her ribcage like a physical thing even as she checked the doormat for his flip flops. Which were missing, leaving hers sitting neatly with a big, empty space beside.

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2: **Full disclosure: I snacked on Macedonian feta with olives, olive oil and oregano while writing this chapter (which you'd recognise from my fic _Somewhere To Be_). Also, Ashtonsgirl, I wish you didn't have PMs disabled… because it prevents me from thanking you personally for your reviews!

_**Please review!**_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N 1:** Oh wow. It's seven chapters.

~.~.~.~.~

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Bobby was napping restlessly in a recliner in Eames's living room when something woke him. He'd been having a bad dream… not a nightmare, which he rarely had any more, but he often had bad dreams in the morning, particularly if he went back to sleep after waking up, which he'd done today. In the dream, he'd been looking for Eames on a long stretch of beach, just at sunset on a coolish summer day. He kept seeing shapes off in the distance that he thought were her, but either they grew smaller and disappeared the closer he got to them, or they turned into something else.

"Oh, there you are," he mumbled, still half-asleep. What had awoken him was a tiny hand, running through his hair and scratching his scalp with short, blunt nails.

"What?" Eames was standing next to him in a terribly cute flannel pyjama shirt and shorts, and though she seemed a bit surprised at his exclamation, she didn't withdraw. Her hand stilled, however, and Bobby reached up and took it before she could decide to take it away.

"Nothing, I was dreaming." Her hand was small and soft and strong, and she didn't seem to object to him holding it.

"I thought you left. I got up earlier, and…" She waved at the pile of bed linens with her free arm. "But you came back."

"I was taking out the garbage. It was very, um, barfy. Why, did you miss me?" He didn't know why he said that, and he especially didn't know why he kissed her hand as he did so. It was so not them; to flirt, to dance around the bonfire of physical attraction he knew they both felt; to invite declarations or intimacy.

But her reaction knocked the wind out of him. Her face crumbled, and she leaned a bit towards him, forlorn. "It was my own fault," she said petulantly.

"Your fault?" He kissed her hand again, but this time, he bit the fleshy part of her thumb. The skin turned white, then pink again, and bounced back from the indent. "Well, you're not dehydrated any more."

Alex shrugged and looked at her feet. "What was I to expect? You have a busy life, probably a busy social life…"

He turned her hand over and kissed her palm. "A busy social life?"

"And I never really let you know that I _wanted_ you to stay…"

He tugged on her arm and she fell easily into his lap. "You wanted me to stay?"

**o.o.o.o.o**

He held her in that uncomfortable chair for a long time. Unlike when he'd carried her before, now she sank bonelessly into him as soon as he wrapped his arms around her. They didn't speak, or kiss, or any of the other things they probably _should_ have done; it was enough for him to feel her pulse against his lips where he pressed them chastely to her temple, and the occasional twitch of her fingers which seemed to accompany the grunts that he'd earlier learned meant she was drifting off.

"I like being here with you," he finally said. He felt apprehensive, exposed, saying something so bold; he was risking an enormous smackdown, or even a rupture of their professional relationship. But he couldn't walk away and back to their regular lives without letting her know that their time together had meant more to him than just an extension of their partnership.

"Me too," she whispered into his shoulder.

"Could we, um, do it again?" He asked, a few minutes later.

"Yeah," she replied.

"And can I – hold you? Like this?" He knew he was pushing it, but he _had to know_ if she was willing to acknowledge what was really going on.

He both heard and felt her snort into the crook of his neck. "Maybe."

_Maybe_. OK, that was… OK. "Can I hold your hand?" He murmured the question right into her ear, and was rewarded with a little shiver and the feeling of her smiling against his throat.

"Yeah, you can hold my hand."

"Good enough," he said. "And by the way next time you go to the beach with your family, I'm coming along."

~.~.~.~.~

**A/N 2: **When I thought up this fic, I hadn't really pictured anything past him kissing her hand. lynne z commented around chapter 4 that she liked the lack of romantic declarations… if her comment influenced the quiet ending then she deserves a thank-you!

And a big thank-you to all who read, reviewed, PM'd, Alerted and Faved. I deeply appreciate the time you took to take in my fic and to give feedback if you felt moved to do so… reviews and feedback aren't why I write, but they are the olives in my feta!

Also, I'm thinking of changing the title again. Internet cookies to anyone who can guess to what!

Until next time…

G.


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